


Wicked Witch of the West

by TittyAlways



Series: Wicked Witch [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Blackholt AU, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Witches, alchemist, allen is hangry and tyki knows exactly what to do do to get a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TittyAlways/pseuds/TittyAlways
Summary: More than anything Allen wished he'd never have to step foot in that dusty, dingey store again, but as much as he'd never admit it to Tyki, there wasn't a single alchemist in the world who he'd rather buy ox blood and bird bones from.





	Wicked Witch of the West

**Author's Note:**

> i was yelling abt a blackholt au AGES ago andnever did anythinf abt it but with the help of Kittybandit's lucky fic Under Your Nose and some offhand comment about urban fantasy, it was finally born
> 
> tbh id be willing to continue this if yall are interested, lmk whats up and we'll see

It was a bitterly bright morning, the clear skies mocking Allen with their cheerfulness, and all he could do was glare sourly at the leaves and litter clogging the gutter while he walked down the cracked, uneven sidewalk. Sneakers kicking halfheartedly at loose stones, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie against the crisp autumn air, Allen almost wished he’d never make it to his destination. 

Regardless of what he wished, however, Allen grudgingly dragged his eyes out of the gutter when his steps slowed and stopped outside the familiar dingy-looking storefront. Pulling in a deep breath and resigning himself to the necessity, he tugged a hand from his pocket and pressed against the glass, his translucently pale skin standing out stark against the store’s dark interior and the black runes inked intricately over his fingers, hand, wrist, disappearing into the sleeve of his jacket. He stepped into the shop and grimaced at the cheerful tinkle of the bell above the door, wishing bitterly that he’d never have to hear it again. 

Fruitless dreams, of course. Even if Tyki packed up shop and moved his business to the other side of the city, if he took that damn bell with him Allen would still have to suffer through hearing it chime his arrival.

Okay, so he was a bit anemic and it had him in a bad mood. But it wasn’t like he was ever in a  _ good  _ mood when he had to do a supply run. Just the idea of seeing Tyki’s obnoxiously charming grin and having to listen to his not-at-all-subtle attempts at flirting made him want to hex the guy, but unluckily for Allen Tyki was veiled in glamours and protective spells cast by witches stronger than he.

“Good morning, boy,” came the anticipated greeting, the tease in Tyki’s voice automatically setting Allen’s teeth on edge. “You’re looking positively green,” he commented and Allen threw an icy glare at him, leaning all casual and confident behind the counter where Allen couldn’t throttle him.

He reached up to push the hood of his jacket down, undid the zip and shrugged the whole thing off in the stuffy warmth of the apothecary, baring the runes that trailed all the way up his arms and over his shoulders. Without sparing the smug alchemist a second glance, he muttered, “I’m  _ definitely  _ not in the mood,” and made straight for the dusty shelves where Tyki kept his avian ingredients. 

Weaving between shelves of musty books and creeping plants which looked as though they had been left to grow wild, dusty bottles with faded labels and glass jars containing animals Allen hardly recognised suspended in liquids of varying shades, their beady dead eyes staring at him, Allen almost wished he could find the eclectic store uncomfortable. But the warm smell of dried herbs and potions Allen couldn’t recognise almost felt  _ homely,  _ as much as he’d never admit it to Tyki. He pushed aside some hanging bundles of chicken feet and crouched in front of the dusty glass jars of crow bones, browsing over the labels despite knowing exactly what he was here to buy.

His warning, however, didn’t stop Tyki’s unwanted comment of, “I think you need a pick-me-up.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and drawing on all the patience he had in this world and any other, Allen retorted, “Not only am I  _ not  _ drinking anything you give me, but I refuse to be  _ picked up  _ by someone who pickles cobras in  _ wolfsbane.  _ Dangerous combination _.” _

“Catch,” Tyki commanded, laughing teasingly when Allen turned to shoot him a glare, and threw something to him from across the cluttered room without pausing to give Allen a choice.

When his hands instinctively came up to stop whatever it was before it hit him in the face, Allen couldn’t help but grimace a little when he saw Tyki was right - in the dim light of the shop his skin  _ was  _ looking greener than he’d thought. Definitely anemic. He’d really overdone it last night, casting a long-distance voodoo charm without a sacrifice. When he held up the thing - a bone, Tyki had literally  _ thrown him a bone,  _ the asshole - he arched a scathing brow at the grinning alchemist.

He was standing there casually, hip cocked against the scarred wood of the counter and a confident smirk on his dumb face. “New recipe,” he said, gesturing for Allen to go ahead, “tell me what you think.”

“This is free, right?” Allen asked skeptically but stuck a knobbly end of the light, thin bone in his mouth without waiting for an answer before turning back to the shelf of bird pieces. He paused for a moment, frowning when a strangely intoxicating taste teased his tongue. Sucking a little to draw out the taste, Allen pulled the bone from his mouth and turned his intrigued frown over his shoulder to Tyki. Ignoring the smug smile and expectant eyebrow, Allen demanded, “What’s in this?” and waved it at Tyki a little.

His grin eclipsing his face, Tyki leaned his elbows on the counter, cupped his chin in his hand and answered, “Secret.” Allen scowled and turned back to the shelves, glaring at the empty eye sockets of a magpie skull while he stuck the bone back in his mouth. Lighthearted and teasing, Tyki listed with frustratingly intentional vagueness, “Blood, herbs, spices. Some stuff. A little bit of magic,” he added and Allen gritted his teeth at the wink he could  _ feel  _ hitting him in the back of the head, the end of the bone crunching between his teeth. 

Pulling it out of his mouth and chewing the splinters skeptically, hating how much he  _ loved  _ the way the indescribable flavour spread over his tongue in subtly shifting tastes the longer he went at it, Allen muttered without turning his attention from the display in front of him, “What kind of  _ spices?”  _ because he knew Tyki wasn’t about to divulge any of the ingredients with more magic-centred properties and usually and alchemist wouldn’t even  _ bother  _ with taste. “Like, cumin?”

Tyki scoffed a laugh and muttered, “Like cumin,” derisively. “No. Like, nettle root and saffron.”

_ “Saffron?”  _ Allen coughed, clapping a hand to his mouth to keep from spitting the suddenly infinitely more precious bone shards out. He looked incredulously at the bone in his hand, then desperately at Tyki. 

Tyki had straightened in a flash, a quick flicker of concern twisting his brows when he demanded, “Is that bad?” 

He looked ready to vault over the counter if Allen ended up having some kind of reaction to something, so Allen just closed his eyes and frantically waved him off, opened his mouth to say, “It’s not  _ bad,  _ but I’m  _ definitely  _ not paying you for saffron-infused crow bones.”

There was a frustrated, relieved groan and Allen opened his eyes to Tyki running a hand through his hair with a huff. Reprimanding, he muttered, “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you. I thought you were about to  _ die.  _ Know what that would do for business?” He shook his head on a wry laugh. 

Still stuck on the whole saffron thing, Allen repeated firmly, “I’m  _ not  _ paying for this,” and held the bitten bone up with a scowl.

Tyki rolled his eyes and settled back into his lax posture, reassuring drily, “It was a gift, boy.”

Rolling the indescribable flavour around his mouth cautiously like he could taste his hesitant words, Allen offered at length, “Um. Thanks, then. I guess.”

Tyki’s eyebrows arched a little, his expression bland when he said, “If it hurts that much to say, don’t mention it,” but despite Allen’s best efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible he could  _ tell  _ the hint of scathing tones in Tyki’s voice wasn’t so much a tease as it usually would have been. 

Frowning, Allen started, “That’s not,” but cut himself off with a small huff. He shot a quick glare back to that magpie skull as if daring it to mock him before pushing to his feet and turning to face Tyki properly. Leaning an inked shoulder against the shelves, arms crossed defensively over his chest, Allen rolled his tongue along his palate before saying, “I’m not being… facetious or anything, I’m just.” He shrugged, eyes darting away from Tyki’s contemptuously indulgent expression. Unwillingly, but not because he didn’t mean it, Allen muttered, “Thank you.”

Tyki pushed himself away from the counter, his forcefully casual posture melting a little. While he dipped to reach under the counter he repeated, this time without the hint of bitter inflection, “Don’t mention it.” Allen bit his cheek, not entirely certain of what had just happened but still feeling a little as though he’d done something wrong. Before he could vocalise, however, Tyki had found what he was looking for - a smallish black cloth bag which rattled a little when he deposited it on the counter. Catching his confused glance, Tyki clarified, “Your usual order. Crow bones imbued with rosemary and rue.”

Allen hesitated a moment, frowned a little and glanced back to the shelf he’d been scanning. Rosemary and rue was where it usually was, the supply undiminished, and he glanced back to Tyki in confusion.

The alchemist rolled his eyes again and pushed the bag an inch towards Allen while he reasoned with a dry smile, “You run my supply out every week, so I took the liberty of preparing for the occasion.”

Abashed, Allen offered a tentative grin, more a slight twitch of his lips than anything, and pushed off the shelf to weave through the clutter towards the counter. Still a little confused and perhaps more cautious than was warranted, Allen apprehensively murmured, “Sorry for putting you out.”

Tyki scoffed a laugh and turned his back, tugging open one of the hundred or so drawers lining the wall behind the counter. “What, sorry for buying my wares?” he asked drily while he rummaged around for something.

Allen stuck the end of the bone back in his mouth despite the guilt still hanging about, partly to free his hands and mostly to indulge in the wonderfully exotic taste Tyki had managed to work into the morsel. He tugged the bag Tyki had left towards himself, worked open the drawstring and glanced in. It was filled with bones, true enough - individual leg and wing for the most part, a skull with a black-tipped beak sitting atop the pile like a sardonic joke. Allen grinned a little at that, wondered when he’d started finding Tyki’s obtuse humour  _ funny,  _ and ducked his head to take in the tasteful scent of herbs Tyki marinated his bones in before drying them. Satisfied, he straightened up and pulled the drawstring closed, glanced up when Tyki made a sound of discovery.

“Here,” he announced and turned around, shoving the draw closed with his elbow. In his hand was a long, slim box which he opened and tilted to show Allen the contents. Inside were ink-black feathers, gleaming dully with the faintest hints of green where they caught the light. Tyki lifted one of the long secondary feathers out and rolled it between his fingers while he said, “I was trying a lemongrass and peppermint combination for exam season, but I’m not sure I got the ratios right. Give me a critique?”

Giving a quiet, amused laugh, Allen leaned his elbows on the counter and pulled the bone from between his lips, gesturing at Tyki scoldingly when he asked, “Do you ask every witch to taste test your experiments, or am I special?” but took the offered feather regardless. 

Tyki snorted and stated, “Oh, you’re definitely special,” and put the lid back on the box and pushed it aside.

Reluctant to ruin the mouthwatering taste of the bone Tyki had given him, Allen replaced it with the tip of the feather and bit down, snapping the quill between his teeth and grinding the vane back in his molars. The moment it touched his tongue his palate was cleared, some of Tyki’s magic no doubt, and Allen hummed in quiet consideration while he munched. Letting the taste of mint fill his mouth, he took another bite for good measure but couldn’t find a hint of lemon in there. Swallowing it all back, he suggested, “Go easy on the peppermint. And a bit more lemongrass wouldn’t hurt - I can’t taste it at all.”

Tyki nodded, plucked a pen from somewhere on the messy, cluttered counter and scrawled a note on the lid of the box. Without looking up he held out his hand, murmuring distractedly, “Thank you, you don’t have to keep eating that.” Allen glanced at his hand, back to his face, and Tyki only looked over when he heard the quiet crunch of Allen biting off another segment. Frowning, he repeated, “I said you  _ don’t  _ have to.”

Allen arched a brow, gnawing on the feather without a word and Tyki sighed in put-upon exasperation, an amused grin twitching on his lips. Allen pushed himself up to stand properly and turned his back to the counter, leaning his hip against the cloudy varnished wood and letting his eyes roam over the small yet somehow endless shop. Folding one arm across his stomach and propping his elbow on his wrist, feather in one hand and bone in the other, Allen mused, “I was looking for some supplies too,” and tried to run a mental inventory of what he was running low on. “Sage, mostly,” he hummed absently. “Black wax candles, white chalk… Do you have any ox blood?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Tyki was leaning on his elbows watching Allen with a small smile, quietly amused, and answered, “I can get some in as early as tomorrow, if you want to come back then.” His eyes drifted away for a moment, scanning the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. “I have the candles and chalk - did you want the sage fresh or dried?” he asked, straightening up and turning to the wall of drawers behind him, pulling open one after another and sliding them closed when it turned out the contents wasn’t what he was looking for. 

“Fresh, if you have any,” Allen amended, sticking the rest of the feather in his mouth and enjoying the peppermint taste. In retrospect, he probably should have used it as a mint once he was done with the bone. But whatever Tyki had put in that thing was  _ so good,  _ Allen kind of wanted the flavour to linger in his mouth for hours after he finished it. 

Distracted, Tyki reported, “I don’t, but I can get it in with the blood. Stocks running low?”

“Mmh,” Allen hummed noncommittally, accidentally turned it into an,  _ “Mmh,”  _ of absentminded pleasure when he put the bone back in his mouth without thinking. 

Without stopping his search, Tyki commented, “Please refrain from making sounds like that in my store. I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Allen arched his brow at that, his lips twisting into a dark grin. “Oh?” he taunted wickedly when Tyki returned with a box of chalk and an expression like  _ trust me, boy.  _ Refusing to heed him, Allen asked, “You gonna stop me?” and bit his grin into the bone with a sharp crack.

He saw the way Tyki’s eyes darted down to his mouth, felt a small, savage thrill when the alchemist had to swallow before blinking away the distraction. Tyki looked him straight in the eye when he shook his head with an indulgent smile and countered, “I won’t  _ let  _ you stop,” and left Allen blinking, trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing while Tyki ducked down beneath the counter - probably to find candles. “Anyway,” he remarked from out of sight, his voice definitely amused now, “I thought you said you weren’t in the mood, not even ten minutes ago.”

Crunching the bone in his mouth to splinters, Allen reasoned, “I was hangry ten minutes ago.”

“Hangry,” Tyki snorted a laugh, his voice moving along behind the counter until he hummed a sound of discovery and popped up meteres away from where he’d disappeared. In his hands were two black candles - a taper in one and a heavy-looking pillar in the other. “Preference?” he prompted, holding them up for inspection.

“Pillar,” Allen answered without hesitation and Tyki placed the taper on the already-messy counter, kind of explaining why it took him so long to find anything. “This,” Allen commented, holding up the half-eaten bone, “by the way, is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Tyki blinked, a look of surprise on his face. “Thank you, I put in the most disgusting things I could think of,” he stated and laughed when Allen gave him a look. “I’m not telling you what’s in it,” he stated with a grin, going back to dig out a couple more candles. “If you choked on saffron, I hate to think what would happen. I’m not a witch - I can’t treat cardiac arrest.”

“Neither can I,” Allen grumbled and gnawed on the bone, occupied with trying desperately not to think of how much it was valued at so he missed Tyki’s surprised glance.

“Aren’t witches usually healers though?” he asked when he returned with the candles and started to wrapping them in paper.

Allen shrugged and cracked the bone between his molars, old frustration eating away at him. “You can draw all the circles and do all the chants, but if you’re not aligned you’re not aligned,” he muttered and tried not to sound too sour when he added, “My talents lie elsewhere.”

“Like…” Tyki mused slowly, glancing at Allen with stifled interest, “black magic?”

“Magic is magic,” Allen scowled. “A hexer can be just as important as a healer.” Or so he’d been told, over and over, for  _ years.  _ Didn’t believe a word of it.

Drily, Tyki observed, “Looks like you don’t believe a word of that,” and Allen had to snort a laugh because it looked like Tyki didn’t either. Tyki hummed in consideration, carefully stacking Allen’s order on the only clear space on the counter. “How about,” he said slowly, giving Allen a sly glance to judge his reaction and letting his lips curl in a grin when he saw Allen’s indulgently arched brow, “when you come back tomorrow, you stick around.” Allen brought his second brow up to meet the first and Tyki’s grin turned a little sharp at the edges. “I’m not a witch, but I’ve been around a while. I know some tricks.”

Eyes narrowing, Allen glanced over Tyki’s face and what he could see of his body despite knowing appearance had little to do with gauging someone’s age - especially when they made potions for a living. “How long is ‘a while’?” he asked, suddenly very aware of the fact he knew very,  _ very  _ little about Tyki, bar that he owned a shady shop, marinated the best avian bones Allen had ever tasted, and tended to flirt outrageously - with everyone or just with Allen, he couldn’t tell. He’d never seen another customer in the store before - which wasn’t surprising, considering the secretive nature of their bunch. 

But Tyki only shrugged vaguely in answer, that grin unwavering, and Allen’s wariness grew.

“What does that mean?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to Tyki’s shoulders.

The alchemist snorted and stated, “It was a shrug. Generally means something like ‘I’m not too sure, sorry’. But,” he amended, seeing Allen’s frown deepening, “if I had to give a number, I’d say… a hundred and fifty years? Ish?”

Allen closed his eyes in a long blink, opened them for a moment only to let them close again when Tyki’s mid-twenties-looking-ass was still grinning at him all smug and amused. He opened his eyes, squinted, opened his mouth with a question along the lines of  _ what the fuck  _ sitting on his tongue, but then remembered Tyki’s class. Fucking alchemists. Anything was possible. So instead he ended up saying, “And I thought the age gap was bad enough already.” Allen wasn’t entirely sure  _ why  _ he said it, but Tyki threw his head back in a laugh and he couldn’t help but crack his own grin.

Tyki, still shaking his head in amusement, pulled a plastic bag from under the counter to pack away Allen’s order and said with laughter and fondness in his voice, “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

Allen snorted, tried valiantly to not let his embarrassment show but knew he’d failed in the blushing aspect of things when Tyki huffed out another quiet chuckle. Trying to shrug it off, Allen reached into his pocket for his wallet, about to ask how much he owed when Tyki pushed the bag to him across the counter. Before he could, however, Tyki spoke up, saying simply, “A kiss.” Allen blinked at him, cocked his head with a confused frown on his brow. Tyki’s light grin deepened into something dark and teasing, and Allen felt his heart stutter when those incredible gold eyes were watching him, heavy-lidded and sly. “Just a kiss,” he said, voice going low and -  _ intoxicating,  _ in a way Allen had only heard hints of before. That was a kind of magic, all by itself. A compulsion spell, and one Allen had little intention of resisting.

And yet, as stubborn as he was, he couldn’t help but give Tyki and amused look and ask, “You think you can buy a kiss with some tasty bones and the promise of ox blood?”

Tyki, cocky as ever, answered, “That’s exactly what I think.”

Because he was a sucker and because somewhere along the line he’d started thinking Tyki was funny, somehow, Allen laughed and planted his rune-covered hands on the counter, leaned in a little and admitted, “You’re exactly right.” Tyki smirked and mirrored him, gave Allen a look like he was daring him to make a move. Not taking, but waiting. It was an exchange of giving, after all. So Allen cocked his head a little, leaned in and pressed his lips to the pull of Tyki’s grinning cheek, gentle and sweet. 

“That all?” he teased when Allen pulled away, but his smirk said he was a very satisfied customer.

Allen scooped up the bag, biting his lip to try hold back his own smile. “You’ll get the rest when I get my blood,” he promised, and turned his back on Tyki’s laugh. Shrugging his hoodie back on, the long sleeves hiding his witchmark arms, Allen pulled open the door and breathed a laugh when he heard that happy bell tinkle his departure. “See you tomorrow, Tyki,” he waved over his shoulder and stepped out onto the uneven, cracked pavement with a big grin and a full heart.


End file.
